


Fiercely Held Fast

by Zigzagwanderer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 07:49:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15138506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigzagwanderer/pseuds/Zigzagwanderer
Summary: Will goes to Hannibal on the verge of a breakdown. Instead of gaslighting him, Hannibal helps.





	Fiercely Held Fast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FhimeChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FhimeChan/gifts).



i.

A sly little corner of the house.

Onyx ropes.

The hours, strung.

Intricacy. Instinct. Art.

There are trickles. They shimmer between the knots.

Will is a death’s head; skull-damp and sheathed in sweat.

Caught. He is Icarus, reversed.

Blinded, he has flown, this siren Sunday, towards darkness, and now his wings are not burnt, but bound, for his pains.

Eightfold, a flickering of movement, peripheral, as Hannibal approaches.

He has many hands, tonight.

Sucks. Sucking. Paralysis and maceration.

Eternal, predatory tenderness.

Until Will is dry; he is euphoric with emptiness.

Distantly, later, clouding on the couch and swaddled in silver and pearl, Will hears the kettle whistling. 

 

ii.

“You are happy.”  
“You’re goddamn right.”  
“Was the prescription adequate, then?”  
“Unorthodox.”  
“You came to me for help. You were entering a dangerously dormant state. Containment provided relief.”  
“You tied me up and fellated me, Hannibal.”  
“You trust me.”  
“If by trust you mean love, then, yeah.”  
“Should you?”  
“I would like more tea.”  
“Yes?”  
“You could poison it. Drug it.”  
“Yes.”  
“But you won’t.”  
“No.”  
“I don’t like it so sweet.”  
“Aftercare; you needed the simple carbohydrate.”  
“See?”

“Yes. I see.”

 

iii.

Later again; Will alights on Hannibal’s lap. 

Will’s new wings are patterned, symmetrically laced. 

He worries that they will fade, then remembers that they can be spun again.

Hannibal has already messaged Jack. Will has a terrible toothache. His head has fallen off. He has the bubonic plague.

He will not be in to work for the foreseeable future.

“It is a shame I can no longer remain as your therapist. I have so enjoyed your mind.”

Hannibal has digested Will, and decided.

Webbed, wedded. 

The difference is in direction of intent alone.

Prey to mate. 

“Yet there are compensations.” He slides Will backwards on the couch. Fans him out. Pins him. “May I fuck you?” 

“Right here in the parlour?” Will raises an eyebrow. Parts Hannibal’s black silk robe. “I don’t recall the spider offering that in the nursery rhyme.”

Dawn syrups the morsels that Hannibal is feeding him. 

Such delicate, deliberate bites. 

“ _I’ve heard what’s in your pantry,_ ” Will quotes, watching Hannibal crouch over him. “ _Good store of all that’s nice._ ”

Hannibal stills above Will. 

Will locks his ankles around Hannibal.

Neither can escape.

Hannibal wonders exactly who is trapping who.

Bliss and belief have had their becoming; the Will that has emerged is capable of many things, including flight. 

“And if anyone else ever finds out what those nice things are; if you ever have to run,” Will says softly, “please take me with you?”

**Author's Note:**

> (Will quotes from 'Said the spider to the fly')
> 
> This is an extra special gift! Our friend Cinn has inspired me to write this little thing for you and has provided a wonderful visual accompaniment. [photoset](https://cinnamaldeide.tumblr.com/post/175470984489/)


End file.
